


she listens like spring and she talks like june

by writtenndust



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenndust/pseuds/writtenndust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d told him stories and he’d listened. She’d asked him questions and he’d answered. His smile had been warm and kind and his eyes had been confusing and strange; and so<i> old</i>. But that was all. She didn’t know his name or where he’d come from. That was what they’d wordlessly agreed on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she listens like spring and she talks like june

**Author's Note:**

> **Donna. You’re Donna, Donna Noble?  
>  Yeah. Why?  
> I do know the Doctor; but in the future. His personal future.  
> So why don’t you know me? Where am I in the future?**  
>  _Donna Noble & River Song 4x08_  
> ***

His long fingers toyed absently with the edge of the Coca-cola bottle as he watched, fixated, on the bendy straw twirling around the rim of the bottle. He'd barely touched it; mostly because it wasn't River’s drink. He'd ordered what he liked, but the more he thought of her blue-green eyes and the way her curls bounced against her shoulders; the more he itched for a cup of rich coffee, just the way she liked it. 

It had taken him a long time to realize that there were so many people in his life he'd move mountains for and it had taken him even longer to accept that River was one of them. There were so many friends that had come and gone and left the barest of traces. All that stayed was a faint image in the back of his mind. 

They shaped him, changed him; dragged him out of the dark.

They always left eventually, whether they wanted to or not; and it terrified him that one was constantly talking about staying and actually had the power to do so. Donna had promised to stay; begged. But she was gone. In all his hundreds of years, none had hurt more than her; and there was a part deep inside of him that feared one day, River would be gone too. For a man that knew practically everything, he could barely understand the conflict of those two feelings. He was scared that forever meant forever and he was scared that forever might come too soon.

“Hey, skinny man.” Her voice dragged him out of his thoughts and he smiled in spite of himself, watching her sit down in the booth across from him with a cup of tea and an apple fritter. She shrugged out of her coat, dropping it on the seat beside her before ripping her fritter apart and moving her tea aside to let it cool a little. “How’s things?”

He smirked, looking down at his bottle of Coke. “Good morning, Mrs Temple-Noble.” He almost deliberately ignored her question.

Donna scrunched up her nose. “Don’t call me that, it’s so formal. My name’s Donna, you can use it.”

He chuckled. “Alright, Donna.”

“So, you look gloomy, what’s wrong?” She took a slow sip of her tea, scrunching up her nose again but this time in more disgust than the first and before he could open his mouth to answer her, she was out of her seat. “What do you call this!?” She boomed at the server and the Doctor smiled down at the table-top, listening to her rant out all the ways in which she had the wrong tea, too much sugar and _why the bloody hell is there milk in it?!_. How she didn’t notice the milk before she sat down, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he knew from her tone that it’d be fixed quite quickly. 

One did not flirt with Donna Noble’s temper.

“Sorry about that,” She slid back into the booth with a roll of her eyes toward the front counter. “Can you believe that? Sugar in my tea when I specifically said none. And don’t even get me started on how Earl Grey and English Breakfast actually _do_ taste different; goodness me.” She smiled in his direction, sweetly; as though she hadn’t just terrorized the entire staff of the cafe. “So how’s your sweet Melody?”

She was mocking him, he knew it. The corner of his mouth rose just slightly and he knew she’d notice. 

She didn’t know him, not now. She couldn’t remember a thing about him and he was glad of it; glad she was safe. He was happy that he’d found a way to talk to her without endangering her and he was glad that for the most part, he could be honest. But it was still Donna and she still knew him, right through. Even if she didn’t _know_ him.

“She’s good,” He met her eye. “She’s working.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Their entire relationship now was based on _’technically’_ and he supposed if that was all he could have, _technically_ having your best friend to turn to, wasn’t all that bad. “What about you?”

“Oh,” She shrugged; munching on a piece of her fritter and thanking the girl with a nod as her tea was returned to her. “Everything’s the same as yesterday. I get up, I go to work, I come here and we have our chats. Which are lovely, by the way, not that I’m complaining; you’re very easy to talk to even if I don’t know your name. What is your name, by the way? You’ve never told me.”

“I thought you said you were going to see the world?” Whether his avoidance of the question was artful or not, it didn’t matter, because she was sufficiently deterred. 

“Seeing it through my own eyes or David Attenborough’s; is there really a difference?”

His mouth dropped open indignantly. “Of course there is!” He protested. “It’s the thrill of the adventure. The burning excitement for the unknown; seeing all the wonderful wonders of the world, firsthand; you strike me as a person who would enjoy that.”

“I’m a temp and I live in a flat in Chiswick with my husband and our overweight cat, Boris. I’d love to go travelling on a whim, but it’s just not in the cards for me.” Hearing the words leave her lips made his hearts feel like they were in a vice. “Sure, I’d love to travel everywhere. I don’t particularly care where, just everywhere. I’ve always wanted adventure and something more. Because there is more out there, you know; and not just here, if that makes sense?” He nodded as she leant towards him, her palms pressed to the table top and her tea forgotten. “Out _there_.” She breathed and he knew exactly what she meant. “I’ve always had this feeling, I’ve had it for a long time, that there’s more out there than just us. Don’t you think that’d be wonderful?” She waved her hands as if trying to think of a word that she just couldn’t get out. “I’ve had this feeling, you know, it’s weird. It’s like I just _know_. Do you ever feel like that?”

The Doctor grinned. “All the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not like that, smarty-pants. I mean, like do you ever feel that there’s more than just us in the universe. Since I was a little girl my Gramps has had me out on the hill behind our house, looking through his old telescope and I’ve always thought it would lead to something. Almost did once,” She blinked, sitting bolt upright. “I don’t know why I said that.”

The Doctor swallowed, folding his napkin and pushing his Coke aside and trying to think of a way to skilfully divert her from the subject at hand. She was treading awfully close to the truth.

“So I don’t know how to tell Ri-Melody, how I feel.”

Donna’s confusion disappeared in favour of a conniving smirk. “All you have to do is say it, you daft, skinny man.”

“She’s not the kind of woman you just _say_ something like that to. We have a very complicated relationship.”

“She’s told you how she feels?”

“Constantly.”

“And you know how you feel?”

“I think I do.”

“So where’s the problem?” The Doctor smiled down at his hands on the table. Trust Donna to be so matter-of-fact and straight down to the point. He supposed that’s what he really wanted. He wanted someone to whack him upside the head and tell him that it was okay to feel what he felt for River. And Donna was the best he’d ever known, in that department. Because River was confusing and frustrating and _sexy_ and he wanted to whack her with his sonic about as often as he wanted to snog her. They were wibbly-wobbly and timey-wimey and all he really wanted was for someone to tell him straight.

Donna didn’t know the particulars. For her safety, he couldn’t possibly tell her. And maybe that was the point. He had to stop thinking of them in terms of his past and River’s problems. He’d met her at the end and he’d met her at the beginning and he’d worked out, slowly but surely, that he cared a great deal for both of them. He loved how River had known him so well, when they’d taken on the Angels because it was the first time in a long time, that he’d had someone who could keep up. And he loved how she could flirt with abandon. She wasn’t the least bit jealous of any other women and that in its self lead him to believe that their bond had to be pretty sound. He just wasn’t entirely sure how to go about telling her. Or asking her...however the case may be.

He needed reassurance. He needed his best friend to tell him that it was okay.

“She and I,” He breathed. “We’re very alike but we’re also very different and I can go a very long time without seeing her. It makes things difficult and confusing. And then there are her parents.”

“Ah,” She nodded. “Long distance relationships are hard. And you don’t get along with her parents?”

“No, I do. They’re some of my closest friends. Actually I knew them first, I think. Well sort of; I knew her and then her Mother but then I found out that her mother was her mother, but that was later on and then she was even more magnificent because she’s a _Pond_ and I think that’s when I knew.” He waved his hand as her brow furrowed in confusion. “But that’s a really long story and kinda not all that relevant so we can move on.” She nodded. “It’s just, her dad’s got a sword and he’s not really scared to use it and she’s pretty scary herself if you get her angry. Sexy too, but scary, oh but boy, can she dance.” He could feel his face heat up as he spoke and just knew the reason for the smirk on Donna’s face.

“You love her.”

“Now that’s a bit far.”

“You love her.”

“You need a holiday, your brain’s mushy.”

“You _love_ her, Skinny man. It’s written all over you. I bet you don’t even know just how much you love her, but you _do_ love her.”

He dropped his forehead to the table-top and Donna laughed at the thud it made. “I haven’t had this dilemma in a _really_ long time.” He looked up from the table to meet her eyes and he could see that genuine Donna concern. She could be flippant and she could be sarcastic, but one thing Donna was not, was uncaring. She cared about _everyone_ and _everything_ and to see him in turmoil was hurting her, just watching it. She didn’t even _know_ him, not really; not to her. But she _cared_ , so much. “I used to have a family,” He whispered, looking down at his hands. “Long time ago; really long time. They’re all gone now. And this is the first time that I’ve-I mean there's been other's but she's so _like_ me in so many different ways that it terrifies me. I never thought I'd ever meet another-” He stopped himself and smiled when he felt Donna’s fingers wrap around his from across the table.

“It’s alright, I get it.”

“No,” He frowned deeply, shaking his head. “You really don’t. But that’s okay!” He raised his hands before she could protest, because he hadn’t meant for it to sound quite so careless. “I mean, there’s a lot about it that I really can’t talk about and it’s complicated and strange and _wonderful_. I mean...Melody makes me feel so alive, so _young_ again. For so long I contemplated the end and now, with her, I want to grab her hand and run so fast in the opposite direction that the end will never catch us.”

“Young?” Donna scroffed. “You daft little boy, you’re still young.”

“I’m really not, you know.”

Donna studied his eyes for a long time, looking deep into the shadowed brown of his over nine-hundred-year-old eyes and he saw her swallow, sitting up straighter in her seat. “You’re really not, are you?” She breathed and he smiled wistfully, twirling his straw again. “I mean, you’re _really_ not.” She hesitated. “Who _are_ you?” Donna’s hand flew to her temple, her fingers pressing firm against the side of her head as she winced and her eyes closed tightly.

The Doctor’s hearts stopped.

“Donna,”

“I’m fine,” She smiled. “Just a sudden headache.” She rubbed her temples and opened her eyes. “That was strange.”

The Doctor swallowed a lump in his throat. “I think I should go.”

“But you haven’t finished your drink.”

“I don’t really feel like Coca-Cola anymore.” He smiled and she nodded, wondering why all of a sudden, he’d closed up like a vice. “It’s been lovely, Donna, to talk to you like this.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She looked so hopeful and the Doctor’s hearts constricted in his chest because he knew he had to stop this. With each passing day, with each stolen moment, he was coming closer and closer to the precipice. He couldn’t do it, not to her. Not his Donna. She was too precious and he was too selfish for his own good. He had to stop. 

“No, I’m sorry Donna, but we won’t meet again.”

Something passed through her eyes that gave him pause; like somehow she completely understood. And somewhere on an unconscious level, maybe she did. “Promise me you’ll tell Melody how you feel?”

“For you, Donna, I promise.”

She smiled then, wide and beautiful and cheeky all at the same time. And in that moment he knew she would be fine. She would always be missing that spark and he would always hate himself for being the one to take that light from her eyes. But it meant she would live and to him, that meant the world. She would always be his Donna and she’d always have stars in her dreams if not in her eyes.

“Goodbye, Skinny man.”

He smiled and struggled to hide the pain behind it. “Goodbye, Donna.”

Donna watched him as he walked from the diner. She followed him with her eyes as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his long coat, smiling as it whipped out behind him. He was a strange man; she’d thought that the moment she’d met him. But his eyes were so kind and familiar that she’d found herself so easily talking to him about anything and everything. Her hopes and dreams and wishes and sorrows. He listened so well and when she’d discovered how tortured his soul was, he’d become the most fascinating aspect of her life. She treasured her afternoons here, with him. She’d wondered at his choice of words and his madness and his whimsy and she’d wondered at his ability to be so sad and yet so cheerful, all at once. He was all limbs and fumbling and strange clothes, but secretly she’d loved the red bow-tie and the grey vest he wore beneath that dapper charcoal coat.

She watched him disappear around a corner and she felt his absence in her heart. It was a strange feeling, to feel so connected to him even though all they’d ever shared was tea and secrets.

She found herself getting up from the table, wrapping her coat around her shoulders as she dashed out the door after him; because all of a sudden, just saying goodbye didn’t seem like enough. Somehow, she felt that what they had to say to each other was so much more, but she couldn’t really put her finger on why. They didn’t owe each other a thing. She’d told him stories and he’d listened. She’d asked him questions and he’d answered. His smile had been warm and kind and his eyes had been confusing and strange; and so _old_. But that was all. She didn’t know his name or where he’d come from. That was what they’d wordlessly agreed on.

She dashed around the corner, feeling a breeze gust up from the alley as a strange screeching sound reached her ears. It was like engines and voices and she couldn’t quite describe what the sound was as the wind whipped her red hair in her eyes and through the violent spray of ginger locks, she caught a faint splash of blue disappear from sight. 

And then the wind was suddenly gone and the alley was empty and she couldn’t understand where he’d gone. It was a dead-end and all that lay before was puddles and dumpsters and torn up concert posters. 

Just like that. He was gone.

The End.


End file.
